


in this fine establishment we do not need pants

by yuzubalm



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: After-hours Onigiri Miya, Humor, I clown on Atsumu but in an affectionate way, M/M, Miya Twins Bickering but make it funny, Post Time Skip, Suna is watching respectfully, T for the swear words, no this is not sexy I am sorry, osamu in a skirt, well there was some attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:15:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29109159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuzubalm/pseuds/yuzubalm
Summary: “Uh,” Atsumu starts, clearing his throat. “Samu.”“What?” His twin glances at his plate. “Is the filling okay today?”“Huh? No, it’s real good, I-”“Atsumu has a question for you,” Suna cuts in to take one for the team in as dignified a manner as he can manage. “and that is whether you’re wearing pants.”
Relationships: Miya Atsumu & Miya Osamu, Miya Atsumu & Miya Osamu & Suna Rintarou, Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Comments: 18
Kudos: 156





	in this fine establishment we do not need pants

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spiritscript](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiritscript/gifts).



> Life is simple. Nae tweets, “ _skirt Osamu_ ”, and I reply, “ _say no more_ ”-
> 
> Anyway, I’m pretty sure everyone wanted sexy Osamu but I went in the complete other direction and wrote something so completely unsexy it’s funny. Hope you enjoy this little one, which was fun to write! (Special s/o to Nae who has tuned me into Baker Osamu, Crime Boyfriends and more amazing ideas to come.)

“Wait.”

It’s half past six in the evening and only two customers are left sitting in Onigiri Miya. The store’s typical opening hours on Saturdays are ten-to-five, but special exceptions are made for special people, and these special people include one post-practice Suna Rintarou. 

“Wait a goddamn minute.”

It’s a normal evening. Or, at least, Suna would like to think that it’s a normal evening, over which he can enjoy his dinner and instagram feed in peace while Osamu hums in the distance, washing up and prepping for the next day. 

It’s just, Atsumu’s here too, today. That isn’t actually a problem.

It’s just, in the span of the past thirty seconds, Atsumu’s been sounding like he’s going through a crisis, and he can’t eat through that. 

Suna’s sitting at the corner closest to the cash register, nursing a large salmon rice ball, while Atsumu, whose second tuna roll sits half-eaten on his plate, suddenly sits upright and freezes, like he’s come to a horrific realization.

“Suna. Sunarin.”

Suna doesn’t stop scrolling his phone. “What?”

“I dunno how to say this without being weird.”

His eyes flicker towards Atsumu, who looks fairly aghast, and he sighs. “What.”

Atsumu glances back at him, eyes wide. 

“Is Samu not wearing pants?”

That’s enough for Suna to slam his phone face-down on the countertop.

“ _What_ ,” he says, “the fuck are you talking about?”

“No, _look-_ ” Atsumu ducks his head below the counter, gesturing at Suna to do the same. “Okay, ya see, he’s been behind the counter all this time, so I didn’t realize, but I swear I saw the back of his calf just now, right up to his knee, when he turned around.”

Suna lowers his rice ball back onto his plate as he bends his head down warily. “...Okay.”

“Come on, Su-” Atsumu’s eyes grow wider mid-sentence, jaw dropping. “Wait, should I not be here? Oh fuck, it’s some sex thing, isn’t it? _No._ Fuck me- oh no, _don’t fuck me_ , I’m leavin’-”

“Atsumu.” Suna interrupts him with a slap on the shoulder. “Get a grip. Why the hell wouldn’t he be wearing pants in his own damn shop?”

“I dunno!” Atsumu exclaims, before glancing up quickly and turning back to him again. “I dunno,” he repeats in a whisper, “but the fact that I could see his calves means that there’s nothin’ covering it, right?!”

Suna hesitates. Well, yes, Atsumu isn’t wrong, if he can see his calves-to-knees it means that he’s not wearing full-length pants. But that doesn’t mean he’s not wearing anything. He could be wearing shorts, for christ’s sake. It simply doesn’t make sense for him, a professional business owner and chef, to not be wearing bottoms, _damn Atsumu_ , now he’s imagining Osamu in a shirt and apron and nothing else which is _definitely_ something he’s seen before and nope, wrong time wrong place to be conjuring _that_ memory-

“Took a ball to the head today, didja both.”

The two athletes jump in their seats and glance up to see Osamu surveying them bemusedly from across the counter. 

“Uh,” Atsumu starts, clearing his throat. “Samu.”

“What?” His twin glances at his plate. “Is the filling okay today?”

“Huh? No, it’s real good, I-”

“Atsumu has a question for you,” Suna cuts in to take one for the team in as dignified a manner as he can manage. “and that is whether you’re wearing pants.”

Osamu stares at the both of them for a long, quiet moment, and Atsumu looks like he just wants to leave, like _right now_ , just as Osamu starts to laugh. 

“What? I-” Osamu wheezes, slapping the table top as he doubles over. “Ya dumbass- ya thought I’d work at my own restaurant in my boxers or somethin’? Christ, Tsumu-”

“No, I-” Atsumu sputters, waving his chopsticks in his general direction. “‘S not that! I can see yer legs! Why can I see yer legs!”

“Ya been in my restaurant for like, a good thirty minutes-”

“You’ve been behind the counter all this while, fuck me for not bein’ able to see!”

Osamu glances at Suna, like, _can you believe this guy_ , and Suna shrugs and throws him a look back, like, _honestly, I’m confused too_ , so Osamu sighs and takes a step back, patting the front of his apron for added effect. 

“I’m wearing this today, that’s why.”

Suna blinks as he looks down, realizing what he hadn’t noticed before. He’d felt it when he brushed up against him earlier to greet him hello, but he’d thought it was just his apron. 

Now, he realizes that there were pleats. Pleats, down the front and sides of his thighs, stemming from where his waist pinches in and ending just three inches above his knee, only slightly longer than his apron. It’s a skirt - Miya Osamu is wearing a black, pleated, high-waisted skirt that sits neatly above his hips and blends in perfectly with his black shirt and navy apron. As Suna meets Osamu’s eye, he smirks and puts a hand on his right hip, perking it up, and the skirt sashays just slightly, pleats ruffling. 

Oh, okay, okay. It’s cute. He looks good. Suna gets the appeal, no words needed. 

Judging by the furrow in Atsumu’s brow, he’s probably thinking about how he can pull the look off better. But Suna doesn’t know if that’s possible. Osamu looks good in black, black suits, black ties, black shirts, now black skirts. 

He’s mildly aware of the bob in his adam’s apple as he swallows, loudly. Atsumu throws him a look of long-suffering and sighs at him, equally loudly.

Osamu continues to grin at them. “Comments from the floor?”

Suna tilts his head. “It’s nice,” he comments idly, fingers trailing the edge of the countertop. “Really shows off your calves.”

Atsumu scoffs. “Between the two of us, Samu’s calves are shit.”

Osamu shakes his head in dismissal. “You should try it sometime,” he suggests to them instead, patting the pleats. “It’s freeing.”

“It does look breezy,” Suna points out.

“And there’re plenty of options for layering, so it’s real fashionable, too-”

“Alright, alright-” Atsumu waves his hands at them. “I wanna eat in peace. Shut up.”

“My property, my rules,” Osamu says, grinning, but he sets a small plate of pickled radish on Atsumu’s right, pats the table lightly and resumes the arrangement of his tabletop items anyway. Atsumu picks a mouthful begrudgingly, eyes lighting up just slightly as it hits his palate. 

“Rin, pickles for you?” Osamu swings around, jar in hand, small smile on his face.

“Uh-” Suna looks away from the curve of his waist, down at his half-eaten rice ball. “-it’s okay. I’ll keep eating this.”

Osamu laughs, and turns away again, pleats falling to the side as Suna determinedly sticks his gaze to his rice. “Okay, I’ll keep some for if ya get hungry tonight.”

Suna utters a mumbled thanks as he takes a bite, tips of his ears burning pink. Atsumu grumbles as he stuffs the remainder of his roll into his mouth with his chopsticks and waves it at his brother.

“Yer just a show-off. I’d look way better than you if I tried...”

“Oh?” Osamu says, lips quirking as he arranges the teabags and cups to his right. “Didn’t you wear one before? For your…ah…fan event last year?”

Ah, the Jackals’ fan meet that Akaagi managed to film. It’s a sore spot for Atsumu and Osamu knows it. Suna can only laugh as Atsumu yells and tosses his chopsticks at Osamu, who dodges expertly and throws a handful of teabags back at him. 

Atsumu sputters as one of the teabags hits his face and plops squarely onto the counter. “ _You_ \- you’re makin’ fun of me, now!”

“Okay, but since when am I not?” Osamu collects the chopsticks from the floor and places them in the sink. “Also, don’t throw that shit around. Again, my property, my rules.”

“ _Ugh,_ you threw something, too, ya filthy hypocrite!”

Osamu grins cheekily. “Rules don’t apply to the owner.”

Atsumu throws his arms into the sky and opens his mouth as though to retaliate, but ends up slumping in defeat against the counter because yeah, owner’s rights.

“Yer all killin’ me...I’m gonna call Omi-kun to pick me up...rescue me from ya bullies...”

“I don’t care.” Osamu leans over to Suna and brushes the top of his forehead with his thumb, sweeping loose strands of hair out of his face. “Gimme fifteen?”

“Okay,” Suna replies simply, which earns him a long, pained groan from Atsumu.

\------

Later, as they lock up and bid Atsumu goodbye, Suna flicks at Osamu’s waist with his fingers.

“Wear skirts more often?”

“Yeah.” Osamu flicks his left cheek affectionately in return. “Okay. Next week?”

“Okay.”

“...Longer or shorter?”

“...Shorter?”

“Like, _cheerleader_ , shorter?”

“...Let’s go home and talk about it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Again, I will take every opportunity to slot in sunaosa. There’s skts if you squint and I haven’t gotten the chance to delve into the ship (writing-wise) yet but mark my words, I will sometime. Sorry everyone, I’m in too deep in sunaosa hell. Come @ me @yuzubalm on twitter and in the comments 
> 
> Also, for those already with me on twitter, I’m planning more Osamu content this year and I’m very excited about it! Look forward to it!!


End file.
